Crap! Crap, I say!

So, my bestest shared a few hours ago on FB an article on 'How to Cope with Bestie Seperation Anxiety'.  I figured, "Well, it is that time of year when I really start to miss her and feel lonely." and off I went to read it.  About 1/2 way through, I shouted at my phone that it was total crap!  "CRAP, I SAY!"  I slammed down my phone and marched upstairs to my trusty computer with my indignation.

Here's a little how I feel about life without the person who knows me best (outside of my husband, of course).  [dim the lights and queue the background music - in this instance, we'll play some Boys II Men quietly]  I've never made friends easily.  I know, shocker right?

I'm weird, and while I'm pretty OK with my own weirdness, I've discovered that many others just can't get and/or accept me.  She gets it.  I know that my brain doesn't work like yours; it's usually run about 5 blocks ahead of our conversation.  She knows and doesn't care.  I know my sense of humor is off; and by off I mean really bizarre [shit, I'm still dying laughing about this random nipple thing the hubs said about a week ago].  She's aware and tells me I'm weird.  I know I'm socially awkward and do inexplicable things bc of this.  She just doesn't give two shits.  And I'm the least PC person I know, and I never mean anything by it, it's just I like the way some words sound and would use them regardless of what they meant [perfectly illustrated is my love of the F-word.  It could mean anything and still I'd really love to say it].  This makes her giggle.  Mmmmm, k - the music's playing now.

My bestie and I kind of fell into those titles.  I wasn't hers for forever, and she wasn't who I'd proclaimed to be mine.  We hit it off the moment we met, but we were hardly inseparable.  But then one day, I think we both just realized that we had quietly come to mean that much to each other, and that life apart...well, it sucked.

This article [yes, yes...I understand it was meant for someone much younger - hence the Gossip Girl reference, but I still think it's crap] says the distance will be made easier by Skyping.  Or a phone call.  Or any other number of asinine things.  And it's not.  And I'm 100% selfish, I know.  I'd almost rather nothing than a partial something.  If she's not here, I just don't care.

Not a day goes by that I don't come home from work, get the kids through their homework and sit down to my FB feed to catch up on what she's doing in life that I don't wish I could walk over to her house, throw myself down on her couch with my legs dangling over the edge while shoving at her freak assed dog who is obviously trying to lick my face.  Never mind I've never done this.  I know people who could, and I hate them for it.

Not a moment goes by that I don't miss that when she comes to visit, my favorite moments are spent on my couch, not saying a word, watching documentaries about beavers...or the problematic raccoon population in Toronto.  Yes, you heard that right.  I've not seen her in three months, and I really just want to sit there.  Doing nothing.

I go out to restaurants wondering what she'd order (keep in mind, when we *could* go to restaurants together, we never did bc we were poor broke college students who saved their money for vodka & smokes...Ok, ok, that was all me - but she WAS poor back then too).  I wonder if I could bully her into ordering that OTHER thing I really wanted so we could split halvsies and I could have the best of both meals.  I wonder if she'd cough on her fries so that I'd stop stealing them.    I'll never really know.

When my kids do stupid shit, I wish she could see me explaining it to know that I just eluded to the fact I imagine knuckle punching them .  When my heart hurts, I daydream about her walking over with two rocks glasses and that vodka and us sipping until we got cut off [which, let's be honest, would take about five sips].  I have imagined her sitting next to me while I cry at the movies that get me in the feels, but no one else, and pulling out Kleenex one by one and throwing them at me while inferring I'm a baby.  

And more than anything, I want hugs.  Hugs from someone who long ago decided my weirdness was spectacular.  That she would never take it or me personal. That my life is great, but it's not perfect bc she's not physically here [which if she were, it would be].

And THAT is how you deal with 'Bestie Anxiety' - you imagine it different.  You tear up and wish things were different, and that maybe you could find someone to be a stand in, but you deep down know it never is the same.  'Other Ali' will never be Ali.  You hate the people who have their Ali's close by.  And then you do the last thing you can - you write angry epitaphs.